


Songbook (1970-1979)

by temporal-infidelity (gyabou)



Series: but I am not resigned [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Drag Queens, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Queer History
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 19:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18452843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyabou/pseuds/temporal-infidelity
Summary: Ten years, ten songs, ten stories about Klaus and Dave in the 1970s. Sequel to "Dirge Without Music".





	Songbook (1970-1979)

**Author's Note:**

> Remember the tiny one-shot sequel I mentioned planning at the end of Dirge Without Music? Ahahaha. This is what is happening instead. It took awhile because I wanted to loosely outline them all and be sure I could actually do it, and also because I dragged back into Misfits fandom after eight years away (if you are interested in stories about Nathan as well as Klaus, go check mine out). But here is the first one at last! I'm not sure how long it will take me to get them all done, but I will keep working away!
> 
> When I'm done I'll post a playlist of all the songs, but for now I encourage you to check out the links at the beginning of each so you can listen along. :)
> 
> This first chapter is set the day after the epilogue of DWM.

_Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls_  
_It's a mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up world_  
_Except for Lola._

The Kinks, [Lola](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LemG0cvc4oU)

 

“Are you sure about this?” Dave asked. “I heard this place was owned by the mob.”

“It’s 1970,” Klaus said, shrugging. “Everything’s owned by the mob. Come on!” And then he took Dave’s hand and led him through the front door of Club 82.

It was like passing through a magical door into some other world. A private place that was just for them and for other people like them. Men sat together with other men, openly displaying affection. Drag queens, their costume jewelry glistening in the low light, were scattered throughout the club. To Dave they looked beautiful, like goddesses or angels or something. How could anybody be so brave as to do that? Wasn’t crossdressing illegal in some states? He wasn’t sure about New York. Regardless, he was shaking in his fucking shoes just being here, but they were relaxed, laughing, flirting. Dave felt like Alice in God damned Wonderland. Even the parade hadn’t been like this, because despite the happy bubble they’d been in, they were still surrounded by the normal world, the heterosexual world, the world he didn’t quite fit into (and he wasn’t quite sure he fit into this world, either, but he was hoping to find out).

Klaus also looked fascinated, but entirely more at ease than Dave thought he ever could be. They walked through the club, looking for an empty table, Klaus holding Dave’s hand, and Dave stroked his thumb across the palm, tracing out the letters that he knew formed “Hello” on it. He’d done the same with his tongue the night before in the little hotel room Klaus had gotten them, his face burning red but unable to stop himself, while Klaus gasped and squirmed beneath him, like a wet dream come to life. He refused to do the same to the hand that read “Goodbye”, at least not yet. He wanted this weekend to last forever.

They found a place to sit just before the show began. Klaus had seen it advertised in the adult section of the Village Voice when they were out getting coffee that morning and had gasped with excitement. “The Jewel Box Revue,” he said, pointing at it, and when Dave had seen the blotchy, black and white photo of a drag queen that headed the ad, he’d frantically curled the page up so that no passersby could spot it. “We’ve got to go, Dave, come on! It’ll blow your mind!”

He had been hesitant, but yes, Klaus had been right. It was blowing his mind already and the curtain was only just parting on the stage. The show passed by in a blur. Beautiful men dressed as women sang and danced and charmed the crowd, telling jokes about things that Dave had literally never heard spoken about in public, which made his ears turn red even while he laughed. _I can’t believe I’m actually here_ , he kept thinking. Klaus sat beside him, laughing and cheering and clapping, and every once in awhile Dave would look at him, watch the curve of his lips into a mischievous smile, the shine of his eyes and the delicate crinkling of skin between his brows, and he’d think, _I can’t believe I’m here with him_. Eventually Klaus caught him looking, and he smiled, totally lacking in judgment, and ran a hand along his thigh.

“Do you like it?” he said into Dave’s ear, his breath hot against his skin, making him break out, strangely, in shivers.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I mean,” Klaus continued, “do you _like_ it? Do you think they’re sexy?” He bit his lip and raised one eyebrow.

Dave’s mouth went dry. “Yeah,” he said again, a little dazed, because he did, and he was confused by it. He wasn’t attracted to women, never had managed to be, but there was something so alluring about them, about the whole idea of it, that he’d never even considered. “Yeah, I am.”

Klaus grinned. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

“Huh?” he said, but Klaus had already stood and slipped away from the table. Dave watched him sidle up to a drag queen in a short blond wig with gorgeous winged eyeliner, wearing a white go-go dress. His anxiety spiked as Klaus began to have a whispered conversation with her; then drag queen threw her head back and laughed, and gestured for Klaus to follow her. They disappeared into the crowd.

Klaus seemed to be gone forever. Dave clenched and unclenched his fists, cracked his knuckles, drank the rest of his drink, then the rest of Klaus’ water, for good measure, and peered desperately into the crowd, hoping to see that tall, curly head appear. When he finally did, Dave let out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, that took longer than I thought it would,” Klaus said mysteriously. “I got a little carried away.” In his hand he was clenching a plastic shopping bag. Before Dave could ask what was in it, Klaus kissed him and said, “Show’s almost over, and I see you finished your drink. Wanna blow this popsicle stand?”

 

When they got back to their hotel room, Klaus locked the door tightly, then turned around and grinned at Dave. “You stay right there,” he said. “I’m going to slip into something more comfortable.” The last was uttered in a sing-song as he twirled his way into the attached bathroom, his shopping bag spinning with him, and shut the door behind him.

Dave sat completely still on the bed they’d shared the night before, his eyes wide and his imagination running on overtime. He’d finally put two and two together and realized what must be in the bag, and he was caught in a state of flushed embarrassment and eager anticipation as he listened to the sounds of Klaus changing, then water running in the sink, then a surprising period of silence.

“Everything okay in there?” he managed to call out, his voice unusually squeaky.

“Almost done,” Klaus called back through the door, and sure enough, a few minutes later the door creaked open and he looked through the crack. “Ready?”

Dave licked his lips and nodded, and Klaus stepped out into the room.

He was wearing a long red dress with a deep plunging neckline, made of some kind of fluttery material that looked impossibly soft to the touch. It went down to his calves, exposing his finely shaped ankles and bare feet. When Dave managed to drag his eyes away from the dress to take in Klaus’ gently smiling, expectant face, he realized what had taken him so long in the bathroom: his eyes were lined with dark strokes, his eyelashes thick and lustrous, and his lips were painted red to match the dress. The startling contrast of the feminine clothing and make up and his masculine build, his beard and short hair, the unshaven legs and underarms had a bizarre effect on Dave, a lust so powerful it almost blinded him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, licking his lips unconsciously.

Klaus winked. “You like?” he asked, giving a spin and waving his hand like a model on a runway.

“Of course I like it,” he muttered. “Come here.”

Klaus needed no further encouragement. He ran, laughing and tripping, the red dress streaming behind him, across the room and into Dave’s arm. Dave caught him and found that the dress was as soft as he’d thought it would be. He ran his hands over it again and again, marveling at the feel of Klaus’ firm, muscular thigh beneath it, then slid his hand under the dress to feel the warm, bare skin beneath. Klaus let out a sigh of satisfaction and kissed him, squeezing Dave’s hips with his legs and shifting in his lap in a satisfying way.

“So,” Dave said, when their lips parted, “you just asked that kind female impersonator to give you one of her dresses, and she humored you?”

“Of course not,” Klaus admonished, “I paid her handsomely for it. And she was more than willing to help after I told her why I wanted it.”

Dave rested his hand against Klaus cheek, stroking the rough stubble there, and Klaus closed his eyes and sighed into the touch. He brushed his thumb against his ruby-red pouting lower lip, and whispered, “You’re so beautiful.” Then he added, ruefully, “in a really confusing way.”

Klaus grinned. “That’s me. I’m the confuser!” He spread his arms wide, as though he were being introduced onstage, like one of the performers at the show they’d seen.

And Dave laughed, and kissed him again, and went back to exploring this new experience -- soon discovering, much to his delight, that Klaus wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath that red dress. He couldn’t believe how much he liked this, and how Klaus seemed to know he’d like it before he even did, as though he’d known him forever, and not just two days.

 _I’ll never be the same again_ , he thought, some time afterwards, watching Klaus’ bare chest rise and fall next to him in the bed, the dress lost somewhere on the floor, the make up smeared on his face. _How can I go back after this?_

“You all right?” Klaus whispered. He plunged one hand into Dave’s hair and massaged his scalp, and Dave moaned at the sensation.

“It’s just --” he started, and couldn’t figure out how to finish his thoughts out loud. “Never mind, it’s silly.”

“Tell me,” Klaus urged, “I can handle silly. I invented silly.” He squirmed closer, rested his head against Dave’s.

He took a few moments to work up the courage, and then he said, his eyes closed, “I wish I could bring you home with me.” He fumbled around for Klaus’ hand, brought it up so he could see it in the dim light from the window, read the word “Goodbye” on it. He didn’t want to say goodbye. Not yet.

“Why can’t you?” Klaus grinned, and clenched his hand, the word imprinted on his palm disappearing as he did.

There were a dozen reasons why. He lived in a tiny dormitory right now; he didn’t know Klaus at all, and taking someone home you’ve only known for one weekend was crazy; and to top it all off, it was dangerous, what they were and what they were doing. Sodomy was illegal, and maybe people turned a blind eye in Greenwich Village, but they certainly wouldn’t in Vermont. They could get caught, they could go to jail. He was out of his mind for even considering this.

He couldn’t answer, but Klaus didn’t seem to mind. He stroked Dave’s arm. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It’s going to be okay, Dave.”

“Is it?” He wasn’t convinced, but he wanted to desperately to believe that Klaus was right.

“It is.” Klaus sat up and stretched. “So, where to start? I guess I need to find a newspaper and look for apartments for rent.”

“You’re renting an apartment?” Dave asked, a little stunned by the change of subject.

“Sure.”

“Where?”

“Well, wherever you’ll be,” Klaus said, as though this were completely obvious.

A rush of emotions overwhelmed him: disbelief, excitement, awe. “Why would you do that?” he asked in a wondering tone. “You barely know me.”

A funny expression passed over Klaus’ face, and then he smiled and sat back down on the bed. “Well, maybe I’d like to get to know you more.”

“And you want to move to Vermont to do that?” he asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice.

“It’s fine, I told you -- I’m free as a bird now, I have no responsibilities anymore, I can do what I want,” Klaus said vaguely, dimissing Dave’s objections with a wave of his hand, “and I’m flush with cash, thanks to dear old Daddy’s inheritance.” He grinned. “Not to mention reverse inflation.”

Dave didn’t understand that last part, but he had other things on his mind. “But _why_?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I mean … why would you want to go live in the middle of nowhere to get to know …” and he waved a hand up and down himself dismissively, “ _me?_ ”

“Dave,” Klaus said, half-exasperated, half-serious, “Dave, Dave, Dave …” And he slid in close to him and kissed the wrinkled scar on his collarbone almost reverently. “You have no idea, do you?”

“I mean it,” Dave insisted. “Klaus, seriously! You could have anyone you want. You’re -- you’re -- special, exceptional, you’re _you_ \--”

“I want you,” Klaus said, and squeezed him tightly suddenly, as though he thought he might vanish.

He shook his head, still completely flummoxed. But Klaus was a grown man and if he wanted to follow him back to Vermont on a whim, well, Dave couldn’t stop him.

And he couldn’t say the idea didn’t appeal to him. A lot. The thought of Klaus being there over the summer -- and perhaps longer -- a friendly face who actually knew him, in a way he couldn’t quite let anyone else there know him, brought him immense comfort.

“So tell me about Plainfield,” Klaus said.

“Well, there’s not much to tell. There are lot of farms. And one restaurant. Not a lot of entertainment.”

“You’re really selling it.”

“Thanks, I’ve been told I have a real gift with words.”

“Can you imagine me on a farm? I’ll fit right in.”

“You’d look good in overalls.”

Klaus snorted.

“I think heard something about a commune opening up outside town.”  
  
“Now that’s more like it!”

“Still, the overalls…”

“I’ll consider it, just to please you and your weird farmer fetish.”

Dave realized he was grinning so hard his face actually hurt a little. _It probably won’t work out_ , he thought, looking down at Klaus’ curly head, now resting against his chest, _but if it does … well, it’ll definitely be an adventure._

**Author's Note:**

> Club 82 was a mafia-owned nightclub (most clubs in NYC were owned by the mob at this time, including the Stonewall Inn) which was famous for hosting drag performances from the 50s-70s. At some point in the 70s it transitioned into a rock club, but I think in 1970 it would have still been mostly for a gay clientele. Photos and other artifacts from the club can be [found here.](http://www.queermusicheritage.com/fem-cl82.html) And the [Jewel Box Revue](http://queermusicheritage.com/fem-jewl.html) was a traveling retinue of drag queens (and one drag king!) in that time period.
> 
> Plainfield, VT is the village where Goddard College, the free-wheeling, liberal hippie school Dave had started studying art at in the Epilogue of Dirge Without Music, is located. The commune Dave references was called the New Hamburger Commune. More about communes in Vermont can be [read here.](https://vermonthistory.org/research/research-resources-online/green-mountain-chronicles/back-to-the-land-communes-in-vermont-1968)
> 
> Also, I literally forget this EVERY SINGLE TIME I post a fic, but [follow me on tumblr](http://temporal-infidelity.tumblr.com).


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